


Hydrangeas

by Townycod13



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/pseuds/Townycod13
Summary: Pink hydrangeas mean emotionsWhite ones, braggingBlue flowers of this type refer to apologiesAnd purple is for understanding.





	Hydrangeas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaisleyWraith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaisleyWraith/gifts).



 

_Pink: emotions_

 Kyle smiled at the happy little cloud of pink flowers on his balcony. There was no sight of the caped crusader that had left them but he was okay with just the touch of color tonight. He didn’t need certain blue eyed boys making the world all shades of confusing.

 They were pink like the stupid vigilante’s cheeks, when Kyle had pulled him down for a kiss.

 They were pink like the color of bruising just beneath a mask.

 Kyle held the flowers to his chest and looked out to the moon. Round asshole lounging around in the sky without a care in the world. He saw everything though. The moon had witnessed more than one of Mysterions misadventures.

 The moon had probably also seen the face beneath the mask.

 Kyle felt a spud of ugly jealousy at the thought. The faint glowing globe in the night didn’t deserve to see what Kyle hadn’t. What had the moon ever done to earn it? So it controlled the tides, big fucking whoop, Kyle had carried an injured Mysterion home on a sprained ankle. Did you do that moon? No. I think not.

 Stupid moon.

 Stupid Mysterion.

 Stupid flowers.

 Kyle took back the last one. He liked the flowers. They were a pretty shade of the color inside his heart.

 Damnit.

 He was getting poetic again.

 Stupid him.

 He was the one that went and fell head over heels for some masked vigilante. He was the one that pursued this futile relationship despite the basic trust of _identity_ being denied him.

 Did Mysterion even really like him? Or was he just playing around with the ‘fanboy’ that had coincidently gotten him out of more than one tight spot.

 Did the flowers mean anything or were they a meaningless gesture?

 He knew how he felt though and that was the most upsetting part of it all.

 He knew that even if he was being toyed with he was smitten.

 So stupidly trapped in an uncontrollable emotion that he was jealous of the fucking moon.

_White: bragging_

 Today had sucked. Work was slammed. His friends cancelled on him. And to top it all off he’d lost his damn phone somewhere in the chaos of it all.

 So he just got to spend the night cuddling into his couch and glaring at the TV that would not provide him with a Netflix series he hadn’t already binged.

 There was a slight tapping on the glass door leading to his balcony and he gasped at what he saw.

 There was the stupid object of his affections, ridiculously knocking like the ridiculous asshole he was.

 Kyle chose not to acknowledge his own racing pulse as he stumbled to unlatch the door that separated him from the unexpected guest.

 In his stupid Mysterion way, the man smiled softly, “Hey, Kyle.”

 That shouldn’t make his heart flip flop so much. Just the syllables of his own name from the deep voice of his hero. Damnit, his mind was playing romantic on him again.

 “Hey,” Kyle breathed out in response.

 It was always a toss up what kind of visits he was going to get from this particular visitor. Sometimes it was all business and a wall of stoicism between them. Sometimes he found himself pulled in to meet pliant lips.

 He hated that he accepted either unquestioningly. He wanted more from this. And in the depths of his own heartbreak, he knew that was probably never going to happen.

 “I heard from a bird you lost your phone,” the smile was absolutely catty now, an unusual look on Mysterions face, “Is this it?”

 His shitty smartphone was held up in the dim light and despite Kyle’s initial joy at the sight, his common sense caught up first.

 “How the fuck did you know my phone was missing?”

 The assholes smile morphed into a smirk, “You could say thank you.”

 “No, asshole, that’s not an answer.” Kyle stamped his foot, uncaring that it made him seem like a petulant child, “You don’t get to pop in here bragging about knowing shit about my life and playing hero when i don’t get to know jackshit about yours.”

 Mysterion finally seemed to catch up to the fact that Kyle was actually angry. It was too late though. Volcano Broflovski was already spewing lava left and right.

 He snatched his phone, “You’re an asshole, you know that?! Have you been following me? Do you _know_ me outside of that _stupid_ mask?! What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?!”

 He slammed the window shut without even waiting for a reply and glared into the darkness outside of it before his caped companion scrammed.

 It was only when he was sure the man was gone that his jelly legs gave out and he slumped down.

 “ _Shit_ ,”

 What had he done that for. Mysterion wasn’t going to come back. He’d just lost his only connection.

 “ _Shit_.”

 He looked out into the darkness of his balcony, eyes trained on the white flowers that Mysterion had left behind.

 “Shit.”

_Blue: apology_

 The dark figure that appeared on his left was both a surprise and an expected occurrence. He didn’t honestly think Mysterion was coming back. It had been a week since Kyle’s explosion and he hadn’t heard heads or tails of the other.

 There were blue flowers that the vigilante had brought with him, placed delicately on the little table Kyle kept out there for his coffee.

 Neither of them said a word.

 He wasn’t happy and he wasn’t sad. He was numb.

 “I’m sorry.”

 The voice that filled the air was full of remorse and understanding. It broke Kyle’s reserve.

 He’d been standing out here half hoping for this.

 Mysterion knew shit about him so he had to have heard, somehow, and Kyle needed someone.

 He needed to let out the knot in his chest.

 His voice was tight with emotion, “They say he’ll be fine. My parents are with him now.”

 He barely saw Mysterion nod out of the corner of his eyes before warm arms surrounded him.

 “I’m sorry.” the shadow of a man repeated and Kyle couldn’t hold back his tears any further.

 One car accident and he’d almost lost his only brother. One asshole that decided red meant go and he could have never spoken to his baby brother again. One mistake, one misstep, and he would lose someone he loved.

 He clung desperately to Mysterion’s suit, tears soaking into the cape like a hanky while the other ran a comforting hand down his back.

 He felt lost and angry. He wanted to be angerier yet. This all but confirmed that Mysterion was either stalking him or knew him in real life somehow. Both options were upsetting.

 Everything was upsetting.

 “He’ll be okay.” Mysterions voice had a promise in it and he also hated how much he believed it.

 He believed it because he wanted to.

 He believed it because he trusted him.

 He believed it because it would hurt too much not to.

 “Why won't you tell me who you are?” He asked finally, when he couldn't really cry anymore.

 Mysterion stiffened and it wasn't fair because Kyle knew that he wouldn't be denied an answer now of all times. It wasn't fair but neither was he.

 “You…” he began, an unknown emotion coating the words, “You wouldn't like me.”

 He felt a flare of anger. “Why are you so sure about that?”

 “Because you don't.”

 And Kyle wanted to argue. That wasn't a real answer. That was a shit answer and this was not the time to fuck around with him.

 But the thick layer of emotion that he'd never quite heard from the other man stopped him.

 It was hurt. It was angry. It was raw and honest.

 Tonight he clung to a stranger that held his heart with the heavy knowledge that he had apparently broken the others.

_Purple: understand_

 Kenny McCormick stood at his door looking for all the world like he would like nothing more than to run for cover.

 Kenny McCormick stood at his door holding a familiar flower, this time in purple, and refusing to look up from his shoes.

 Kenny McCormick. Who offered to help find his phone but got shut down. Who called when Ike was in the hospital but only reached a machine message.

 Who offered to hang out but was frequently rejected.

 Who went out of his way to help out when Kyle’s ankle was sprained.

 Who was always there and so easily brushed off.

 Kenny McCormick stood at his door with a purple cloud of flowers and uncertainty in his posture.

 And Kyle understood.

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you wanna send your friends flowers for being legit as heckie but it's not in the cards so you have to improvise owo  
> have a bouquet! :D


End file.
